Don't Go Stealing My Heart - Kelly Siskind Page 0,20
be a bit…judgmental.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A bit?”
Busted. “Fine, a lot.”
“Funny. I didn’t notice.”
“Smartass.”
He smoldered at her. “So you think I’m smart now?”
She thought he was smart and cute and a mountain of trouble. This bantery side of Jack was new, and she liked it a whole lot. “Don’t let it go to your head, but what you’ve done is remarkable. I’m just not used to so much”—she breathed in his ingenious shelter, his elegant home, his obviously caring heart—“stuff?”
“Stuff?”
She gestured vaguely around. “It’s all stunning, but it’s overwhelming.”
He considered her a moment. “You’ve had to work hard for what you have.”
It was a blatant observation, not a question, made with his head tipped to the side, his large hands still stashed in his pockets. Too observant for her liking. His eyes slid from hers, but they didn’t stray far. His heated gaze traveled down her neck and chest, before returning to her face.
Her next breath felt like she’d inhaled fire.
He affected her, this man. She couldn’t deny it, didn’t want to fight it. What she fought was the pull to open her mouth and tell him about losing her father, then being torn from her mother. The foster homes. Running away. Scrounging for food. Details she’d stupidly revealed on that awful girls’ night.
Accepting Jenny’s invitation had pushed her out of her comfort zone, but she’d been excited to have a social evening. She hadn’t expected one of the women to have opened her home to foster children. Francesca had detailed how admirable the system was, that it had given her hope for society. She’d called foster care America’s answer to its rising crime rate.
Clementine had held her tongue and swallowed the acid souring her saliva. She’d bitten her cheek to forget her painful past and focus on the immediate pain. Cheek. Bite. Blood. Yes, blood. But the wrong blood. Past blood had invaded her thoughts. Her cut cheek. The backhand that had sent her sprawling to the ground.
“And what about foster families who use the system for money? Turn their kids into servants and punching bags?” Clementine had nearly slapped her hand over her mouth, furious with herself for referencing her past.
Francesca had rolled her eyes. “You watch too many movies.”
It should have ended there. Clementine should have realized this do-gooder chose to see the world through rose-colored glasses, a luxury Clementine didn’t have. Instead Clementine spewed the ugliness that had happened in her foster homes. The meanness. The disregard for human decency. Her subsequent life on the streets.
She’d rushed from the apartment afterward, leaving all four women, mouths open, pleas and apologies following in her wake. She’d fled outside and spent the evening and morning walking aimlessly. It hadn’t been her past chasing her that dreary day. It had been her present. The friends and smiling photographs she didn’t have. The fact that no one knew or understood her.
She was so jaded she hadn’t been able to thank Francesca for her work and see that goodness for what it truly was. She’d even forgotten her one nice foster home, where she’d met Annie Ward. Annie had been a lost girl like her. Chattiest thing, always going on about Batman comics and scrapbooking, quick with a smile.
When tested, Clementine had forgotten the good and clung to the bad. Her growing unhappiness had led to delaying this job with her scenic drive. It could be why she felt her guard slipping around Jack now. A good man. A kind man. A man who rehabilitated reptiles others had harmed and waited patiently while she digested his too-observant statement: You’ve had to work hard for what you have.
“Yes,” she said, unable to resist. “My life hasn’t been easy.”
“Your childhood?”
“All of it.”
“But you must be close with your father. Doing this photo for him is more than a compulsory card.”
“He died when I was young.” Her breathing accelerated like someone had cranked her horsepower. She never spoke about her past. Ever. Yet she’d blurted it to her neighbor’s friends recently, was doing the same again, her overstuffed secrets too crammed to stay contained.
Jack squinted like the answer to her deception was written in fuzzy fine print. “I don’t understand.”
“Ignore me. The swampy fumes are getting to my head.”
He waited on her, didn’t speak.
“Your astounding sanctuary momentarily confused me. I said something nonsensical.”
He smirked, crossed his arms, still silent.
“You’re annoying when you don’t talk.”
“I could say the same about you. Annoying and secretive.”
“Remember when I was fixing your car and said I didn’t mind